Now you don't.
Last summers quaint abode, all 160 square feet of it, is on it's way to a new home. Destined to be the playhouse for a couple with ELEVEN children, I was not unhappy to see it go. It served its purpose but life last summer, from April through October, without indoor plumbing, heat, or room to do the little things, like breathe, was an experience best left in the past.
Sure, there were benefits. When you live in such a tiny space you spend most of your time outdoors, which is always healthier. You also learn to live with much less and thus moving into out 680 SF grain bin was like moving into a three wing castle. It's all relative.
It did have a working stove but most days cooking in there was just insanely hot so we cooked on an open fire outside. Storage was limited and I had to stand on the booth benches (left) to reach into the cupboards above them. The plumbing was shot so we used our composting toilet in the outhouse, and we washed all our dishes via carried water, on a stainless steel sink set up in the camper yard.
We also showered outside, which I will admit, I miss sometimes. We had privacy, unless you drove up through the field just south of us, then it was every naked camper for themselves. But once the corn grew waist high (for Keith) and neck high (for moi) we were good. All in all we had fun (most of the time) we learned new survival skills ( how to tie the door shut with a robe belt) and we acquired an appreciation for the little things ( not having to wash our bums outside on 40 degree nights).
Now, this vacated area is my new outdoor writing studio. We don't have AC in the grain bin so on the 95 degree days I prefer to be outside in the shade. With our old picnic table placed on the deck previously used as our shower area, and a jug of ice water, ice coffee, iced beer (I believe in free choice) plus a few farm critters for company, I'm good for at least one short story.